Archive of Our Own ^beta

I check the time, then glance at the door I’ve been watching for the last fifteen minutes. Any moment now… Surely… 

Another five minutes pass.  

I’m growing antsy when the door finally opens. I perk up, searching the group of four who walk out. I recognize one of them, I think, but none of them are her. I cross my arms over my chest and go back to watching the door. It opens two more times. The first time is a group of three, the second a solo man who trips over his own two feet because he’s too busy looking at his phone to pay attention to where he’s going. 

Finally, I see her. 

My Violet. 

She’s with a few of her friends, people I recognize from the social outings she’s dragged me to and that game night she hosted a few weeks ago. Their names are somewhere in the recesses of my memory, but I’m not worried about that. I only have eyes for her. Like she senses me watching her, she looks at me, locks eyes. 

Then lights up brighter than the damn Rockefeller Christmas tree she made me take a few dozen photos in front of a couple of weeks ago. 

“Xaden!” She hurries to me, smiling big, bundled up, her bag tossed over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to surprise you.” I reach for her bag and shoulder it while pulling her into me with my other arm. She curls into my chest with a content sigh, like she couldn’t wait to tuck into my embrace. I feel similar. We’ve been ships passing in the night the last couple of weeks and I’ve missed the hell out of her. “How did it go?” 

“Well, I think.” 

“She killed it!” calls out one of her friends, Nadine, I remember. Violet lifts her head from my chest with a bashful grin on her lips. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s officially top of our class.” 

“Of course you are,” I say to Violet, my smile big with pride as I look down at her. She has worked so hard this semester. So many late nights and early mornings. So many thick, dense textbooks, extensive notes, papers, case studies, on and on. She’s been so stressed she’s cried, so worn out that she’s fallen asleep at her desk more times than should be allowed. If it weren’t for me and Rhiannon, I’m not sure she would have eaten the last several days. I’ve spent so much money buying coffee while she studied for finals that my bank sent an alert about an increased spend in the “food” category and Bodhi flagged it on the financial reports he does for me both personally and for the gym with a note that said “you’re whipped.” Which, true, but not the point. She’s finally getting a break for a few weeks, and I’m going to do absolutely everything I can to make sure she’s rested and recharged. 

And selfishly, that I get as much one-on-one time with her as I can before spring semester starts, my gym is flooded with New Year’s Resolutioners, and my second gym opens its doors.

“Have fun with your family,” Violet says to Nadine. She’s still in my arms. I’m making no move to let her go, and she’s making none to get out of my embrace. “See you in a few weeks.” 

“Have fun with him,” Nadine replies with a pointed little grin that makes me chuckle. “I’ll see you next year!” She makes a face. “So cheesy. I hate myself for that.” Violet laughs and they share another round of goodbyes before her attention is fully mine again. 

“Seriously,” she says, looking up at me, arms around my neck now, “what are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to surprise you,” I repeat. “Can you confirm you have no plans right now?” 

“My plan was to take the subway to Brooklyn, let myself into your loft, order a pizza, and fall asleep on your couch watching Hallmark movies. You were going to find me in a very sloppy position upon your return from the gym.” 

“Would have made my night,” I say, absolutely meaning it. “What if we stuck to that plan, but with a little bit of a twist?” 

She furrows her brow. 

“What are you up to?” 

“Come with me.” I keep her hand in mine and start off to where I parked the Bronco a couple of blocks down. I’m not entirely sure it was a parking spot, but I took my chances. Any ticket I get will be well worth it. “What’s in this bag of yours anyway?” I wonder. “Rocks?” 

“Torts and contracts textbooks,” she replies. “My laptop, my notebooks, I think I still have snacks. My wallet, my phone, chargers, the book I’ve been hauling around like I have time to read for pleasure…” She trails off and beams at me. “I have time to read for pleasure!” 

I laugh again and lean down to kiss her cheek as we walk. She asks about the contractor meeting I had today at my new gym and I fill her in on progress. When we reach my Bronco, I’m slightly surprised to find it ticket free. I take a glance at the tires. No boot. Got lucky this time. I toss her bag in the back, then open the passenger door for her. She goes to lift herself in, but I stop her, turn her to me. 

“I’m really proud of you, Violet.” Her smile is worth everything. “One semester down.” 

“Five more to go,” she quips. She reaches up to brush a rogue chunk of hair off my forehead. I need a haircut, but I’ve been too damn busy the last couple of weeks myself, trying to get as much done at the new gym as I can before our grand opening in a few weeks, running my other gym, and trying to take care of both Violet and myself. I’ll go to the barber sometime next week. “I’m exhausted.” 

“We’re going to take care of that,” I tell her. I lean in for a proper kiss, then reluctantly tuck her into the car. I will have plenty of time to kiss her later.  

“You’re headed back to the gym, right?” she asks as I crank the Bronco. “It’s Thursday, so you have those advanced classes tonight. Can you drop me off at your loft?” 

“We’re not going to the gym or the loft,” I tell her. She frowns. 

“Then where are we going?” 

“I told you – to take care of your exhaustion.” 

I take her to the St. Regis. 

She loves it. I knew she would. It’s a New York institution, channels the city’s nostalgic glamor like no other. It’s top-tier service, fine dining, all the things I don’t especially enjoy, but that I know Violet likes on occasion. She and my grandma have fallen into having monthly teas together that are a whole production and while I’d much prefer a restaurant where jeans and a clean shirt are passable, I make it a point to take Violet to a nice dinner or function every few weeks. I don’t enjoy dressing up and it was actual torture to put on a suit and go to a charity gala Riorson Enterprise hosted last month as part of the family and a member of the board as Grandpa put it when he requested I show my face, but Violet wore a red dress that made me think about all the sinful things I’d do to her afterward and it wasn’t so bad in the end. 

“I can’t believe you did this,” she says for the umpteenth time. She’s sitting cross legged in bed facing me, the dress she wore to dinner hiked up around her hips, her hair falling down around her. I’ve ditched my dress shirt and my shoes and I’m propped up against the headboard, content to just watch her. “This is just… so much.” 

“We’re celebrating,” I remind her. “Besides, I knew if I took you back to Brooklyn, someone would try to steal your attention from me, and I’ll be selfish and tell you I want you all to myself for a little bit.” 

“I’m okay with that,” she says with a smile and a nod. She unwinds herself and stretches out next to me, head on my shoulder, arm wrapped around my waist. I play with her hair and am completely unsurprised to find her asleep within minutes. I chuckle to myself and sit there a bit longer before I gently move her to lay on the bed. I’m careful as I take her dress off her. She mumbles, half helps, but she’s so tired that she just lets me take it off. She’s not wearing a bra - things I don’t hate - so I leave her in just her panties and pull the blanket around her. She sighs in contentment and nuzzles down into the pillows. 

I go through the motions of getting ready for bed. I ignore the sleep pants I packed when I was throwing together a bag for Violet and I, opting to strip down to nothing but my boxer briefs. I brush my teeth, use the bathroom, and join Violet in bed. 

I can’t sleep. 

It’s a little early for me, for one thing, barely ten o’clock. I’m wired on the post-dinner coffee we had and high off of several hours of having my girl all to myself for the first time in a few weeks. 

My mind is also busy. 

It’s been a year since Bodhi and Violet were taken hostage by Varrish and his goons. A year since the complicated double life I’d been leading for so long started to unravel. A year since my dad walked back into my life. Almost a year since I imploded and lost the woman I love, the woman who, for the last five months, has let me back into her life, allowed me the space to continue to heal, to have hard days, to earn her trust and her heart back. She’ll swear I never lost her heart, but I feel like I did. It’s been important to me to feel like I’ve shown her I’ve changed, that I’m a far better partner now than I was before. 

I’m doing okay overall. I go to therapy once a week, take time to journal almost every day, constantly work to make sure I’m not shutting down, shutting people out. I’m still taking meds, something that bothers me more than I know it should. Knowing it’s okay to need them and believing it is a line I walk. I tried to wean off them, but my anxiety skyrocketed and the depression I’ve been able to keep at bay ebbed back in and so, here I am, still taking my pill daily. It’s been a couple of months since I’ve had a panic attack, something I’m chalking up as a massive personal win. As my therapist says, all of this is good. 

There is still work to do. I’m still navigating the lengthy list of trauma I’ve experienced, still processing some of the hard things I’ve been through. I’m still keeping my dad at arm’s length, allowing him an hour or two of my time every other week or so. It’s better, though. We talk a little more. I leave less angry. I reply to more of his texts than not. And we didn’t get into any sort of brawl, physical or verbal, when we were all at Riorson House for Thanksgiving a couple of weeks ago. 

I’m doing okay. 

That’s all I can really ask for. 

I drift off at some point. Violet wakes me with her mouth on a very specific body part that has missed her for ten days – I kept count – and I reciprocate before we order breakfast in bed. Then I’m handing her the bag I packed her with Rhiannon’s help and ushering her back into the Bronco. 

“We’re headed back to Brooklyn?” she questions. 

“Eventually,” I nod. “We have a pitstop first.” 

That pitstop is over an hour out of the city. I refuse to tell her where we’re going. She’s convinced I’m taking her to Riorson House until I exit the highway miles upon miles too soon and we’re ambling along a two lane road. She peppers me with questions I don’t answer – I might be healing my trauma, but I’m still stubborn as hell – until I turn off the main road. I hear her soft gasp of surprise and smile to myself. 

I knew she would love this. 

I park and she meets me in front of the Bronco with the same level of energy Andarna has at any given point of the day. 

“A Christmas tree farm? Seriously?” 

“We need a tree,” I confirm. “Figured this was as good of a place as any to get one.”

“We’re going to cut one down and everything?” she continues. 

“That’s generally how it works,” I nod. “You and Rhiannon already have your tree up. You mentioned wanting to put one up at my place, so let’s do that. Together.” I press my lips into a thin line. I don’t want to say what comes next, but I know I have to. It’s the best, healthiest thing for our relationship, and our relationship is my very top priority. “I ruined things last Christmas. I want to do this one differently.” 

Her features soften as she lets my admission of guilt seep in. 

“You know you have nothing to make up for,” she reminds me gently. “You were going through some really hard things. We both were.” 

“I know,” I nod. I do know that. It doesn’t change much for me, at least on this. “I need this.” 

That’s all I have to say. She understands. I want to do this for her, but I also need to do this for her. I can work through the big things, or at least try to. It’s the little things I didn’t do this time last year that I have a harder time letting go of. Violet bought and decorated an artificial tree in the condo we were, at the time, sharing. She did it all alone, while I threw myself into Riorson Enterprises, into keeping my dad out of it, into grasping at anything that I could remain in control of and ignoring the inner turmoil I was in. I didn’t show up for her when she had her MRI, wasn’t there to hold her when she was struggling with her own memories of what happened. I was a terrible partner, and I’m surprised she stuck around as long as she did. 

She doesn’t need me to make up for any of it. She understands I was almost – but not quite – at my rock bottom. Rock bottom came a couple of days after Christmas with a thrown photo album, a drunken night out, and Violet walking away the next morning. She’s given me more grace, more space, than I could ever deserve to work through things. It’s me that needs to feel like I’m righting wrongs. She’s good about gently pointing out when I’m overcorrecting, reminding me that she and I are solid, that we’re moving forward together. I just… 

Need this. 

I take her hand and lead her towards a little woodshed that serves as both the pay station and where we’ll borrow a saw. We listen patiently as the older man working tells us where to go for the best trees, then set off, still holding hands. 

“I’ve never cut down a tree for Christmas,” she comments as we weave through a section of young trees we were told are not available yet. “Before my dad died, he always took whoever was around, usually me and Mira, but sometimes Brennan, to a tree lot where they were already cut to pick our main tree out. Then there were other artificial trees around the house. After he died, Mom got a huge artificial tree in place of it.” 

“I used to come here with my parents,” I confess. She gives me that curious look of hers that says she’s dying to know more, but that she won’t push for it. I want to share the memory though. “It was a big deal to my mom, to load us all up and drive up here. She took a ton of photos, spent ages picking out the right tree. I loved it when I was little, was annoyed by it when I was a teenager. I complained the entire time the last time we came here before she died. I’d give just about anything to have that day back.” 

Violet drops my hand, but only so she can loop her hand around my bicep and move closer, give me the comfort of her through touch. She’s always known physical touch, especially hers, settles me. I’ve never had to tell her. She’s just always – known.

“We’ll make this our own tradition,” she decides. “Bring our own family here.” Her eyes widen at that admission. “I mean…” 

I lean over and press a kiss to her hair to stop her backtracking before she can start it. 

“I’d like that,” I say. I leave it there. We haven’t talked about that part of our future much, had barely scratched the surface of it before we broke up, just one short conversation about maybe one day having a family of our own. I want it, though. I want absolutely everything with Violet. 

I would also like her to pick a damn tree. 

We traipse all over this place, surveying tree after tree. I had no idea Violet was so picky about Christmas trees, yet I’m not entirely surprised. She’s a woman who knows what she wants and once she makes up her mind, she goes after it. What she wants right now is the perfect Christmas tree. One that’s full, but not too full, tall, because my loft has incredibly high ceilings and a small or even normal-sized tree would look tiny in the space. The height has to be proportional to the fullness because it would look odd otherwise, and we have to keep gaps to an absolute minimum. I have to remind her that while my Bronco is impractically massive, it also has some limits on what it’s capable of hauling back to Brooklyn. 

I end up paying someone an obnoxious amount of money to deliver the tree she sets her heart on, then pay them extra when she’s busy browsing a display of roughly crafted homemade ornaments to deliver it by nightfall so she and I can decorate it tonight. Bodhi is going to question the hell out of that charge. He’s made it a game: what has Xaden done to impress Violet, appease Violet, or make Violet’s life easier this week? I let him have his fun, so long as he doesn’t rat me out to Violet. I told her once I wanted to give her the world and I mean that more now than ever. 

It would help if she wasn’t so stubborn about letting me buy her said world. I would go and fall in love with what feels like the only woman in all of Manhattan that couldn’t give two shits about the wealth my family’s name provides me. I love that about her until I want to spend my money on her. Then I’m finding ways to do it without her knowing. 

Wait until the day she finds out I bought us a house. 

I guess, technically, I bought myself a house. It’s my childhood home on the Upper West Side, bought just days before I met Violet. I closed on it the literal day before we met. It’s been sitting empty ever since, save for the housekeeper that goes once a month to dust it off and the maintenance man that gives it a once over every other week or so, but I had to have it. Now that I have Violet, I want it to one day be our home. I want it to be where we raise our family. 

I’ll save dropping that not so small purchase on Violet until down the road. 

We stop at a big box store where I think I’m going to sit back and let Violet pick out ornaments but am instead informed I have an opinion. I defer to her with a lot of “whatever you want” until she grows frustrated and turns on me in the middle of an aisle full of wrapping paper. 

“Luggage,” she states. 

“Luggage?” I repeat. “Here? Right now?” 

“Luggage” is our code word. We both have a lot of baggage, me especially, and I made a reference about pushing a luggage cart when we were finding our way back to one another. During our first fight after getting back together, while we were at her grandmother’s home in Cape Charles, she stomped into the living room after a shower, said “luggage,” and made me talk. It’s been our word for when one of us needs to talk ever since.  

“Yes, right here,” she states, a hand on her hip and determination in her eyes. “I know you want this whole tree outing to be perfect. I know you need to ‘make up’ for last year. I know that, Xaden. I get it. So far, mission accomplished. I have loved today. But this is your Christmas tree. It’s going in your loft. Stop trying to appease me or make up for last year or whatever it is you’re doing and have an opinion! Tell me what you like, what you don’t like. This is a two-way street. I want you to be a participant in this.” 

I press my lips together so I don’t reply right away. She waits, gives me a chance to choose my words. 

“Our tree,” I correct. She lifts an eyebrow. “This is our tree. It’s my loft, but it’s our tree.” 

“Our tree,” she nods, softening. 

“As for the rest of it…” I lean on the cart I’ve been dutifully pushing around the store and look at Violet. “I don’t care, Violet. I absolutely do not care at all what color ornaments go on the tree. All I care about is you and I decorating it together when we get home. I mean that. I get why you might think I’m trying to deflect or let you make all the choices, but in this case? It’s literally because I don’t give a fuck. Hang pink and glitter and disco balls on it for all I care as long as we’re doing it together.” 

She considers me. 

“You’re being serious.” 

“Completely serious,” I confirm. “The worst part about my loft remodel was all the decisions I had to make about paint colors and drawer pulls and light fixtures. I don’t care, but I couldn’t leave the walls primed and I had to have lights, so I picked something.” 

Well, she picked something. If she thinks about it long enough, she’ll realize an awful lot of my loft’s final product was influenced by her comments when I would send her things I was considering. 

“You didn’t have hot water for three months and the worst part was picking out paint colors?” she asks. 

“I had a hot plate,” I say. “I made it work.” 

She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile playing on her lips. Her spending more time around my loft was definitely an incentive to get the hot water heater put in, but it all had to wait while the plumbing was rerouted to account for the bathtub I had put in because I know she loves baths and I had high hopes that she would be a part of my life once more. 

That small smile fads and she grows serious once more. 

“What if I said I need you to have an opinion?” she asks in a smaller voice than I’m used to hearing from her. “I get wrapped around the wheel of if you’re doing something to make me happy because you want to or because you think you need to right a wrong or make up for something. All of this ‘whatever you want’ after you told me you wanted to make up for last year made me think this is one of those times when you’re pushing what you want aside in deference to me.”  

“That’s fair,” I nod. I shift the cart to the side to get out of the way of a woman pushing her own cart through the aisle on an absolute mission. “I know I do that sometimes.” She nods her agreement. “You’re good at calling me out on it, not letting me get away with it. When you point it out, we talk about it, like we’re doing now.” Another nod. “You really want me to have an opinion on Christmas decor, don’t you?” 

“I do,” she answers. “My dad used to do the entire thing by himself. Well, with us. Mom was never around for tree decorating, at least not when we were older. I remember her there when I was younger, but just barely. I used to do all the decorating by myself when I was with my ex.” 

Fucking Dain Aetos. I hate that guy. 

“I’ve always wanted that super sappy Hallmark movie moment of decorating with people I love,” she admits. “I know how ridiculous that sounds, but I immediately formed that image in my head when you took me to the Christmas tree farm and said you wanted to do things differently this year…” 

She’s got me. If she wants a sappy Christmas movie moment, I’ll give her one, even if it is absolutely against my usual M.O. 

“You want me to have an opinion?” She nods again. “Okay, love. Let’s see what we have so far.” I survey what she’s put in our cart. It takes me just seconds to zero in on something to have strong feelings about. I pick up the strings of all four of the offending ornaments. “These have to go.” 

“You don’t like the gnomes?” she asks. “They’re so cute…” 

“They’re creepy,” I counter. “Tiny little men in pointed hats and white beards? If I wanted that, I’d suggest we accept your mother’s invitation to her Christmas party in D.C.” Violet snorts back a laugh. She knows I’m right. Her mother’s Christmas party will be largely attended by old white male politicians whose asses she needs to kiss for one bill or another. 

“Fine,” she agrees. “We can put the gnomes back.” I put them in the front of the cart to return to their shelf. “What about these?” She picks up a box of jewel-toned ornaments. 

“They’re more ‘Taylor Swift Bejeweled’ and less ‘Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.’” She laughs and puts them back on a shelf. Just like that, the tension is broken and we’re okay again. That’s how “luggage” goes between us. We talk it out and we either go back to what we were doing, or we wrap ourselves around one another and don’t let go for a while. “How about these?” I hold up a plastic container of blue and silver ornaments. Violet makes a face. 

“If mine are giving ‘Bejeweled,’ those are giving ‘Dallas Cowboys.’” We settle on classic green and red with some glittery white thrown in, then spend a lot of time picking through bins and pegboards choosing additional ornaments. I still can’t say I care, but it’s actually fun to do this with Violet. It’s damn sure worth the smile she has on her face. “What about lights?” 

“Colored,” I say without hesitation. 

“Really?” she questions. 

“Really,” I nod. “My mom always did colored lights on a tree in my room, even when I was a teenager. I acted like I didn’t care if she did it or not, but I always slept with it on during the holidays.” 

“Colored lights it is,” Violet decides. “Lots of them.” 

It’s one of the best evenings – best days – I’ve had in a long time. We haul all our bags in, finish unloading just as the tree arrives. We realize we didn’t get a tree stand, so I run out to get one at a nearby hardware store and come back to Violet having changed into lounge clothes – one of my t-shirts over a pair of leggings – and unpacked all of our bags while soft piano music plays in the background. It takes me a few songs to realize it’s all holiday music. We take the dogs on a walk, then get down to tree decorating while eating takeout between wrapping strand after strand of lights – she wasn’t kidding when she said “lots of them” – around the tree and hanging ornaments. 

Then we lay on the couch together and just look at it. 

“Better than last year?” I ask. 

“I wouldn’t say better,” she says. I give her a curious look. I was an absolute shitshow last year. I pulled it together to a point to get us through Christmas after I didn’t show up to her MRI appointment, but I wouldn’t say I was the epitome of the Christmas spirit. “It’s different. Last year, we were in the middle of a lot of darkness. All of us were doing the best we could do at that point. This year, we’re all in a better place and it shows in how we’re navigating this season. I don’t want to erase last year. It was hard and horrible at times, but it got us here, and here is pretty great. Next year, we’ll be in a different place and this scene will look different. And that’s okay, too.” 

I consider that concept. She’s right, of course. Last year was fucking hard. I didn’t think I would ever go through something harder than losing my mom, but the end of last year and into earlier this year proved me wrong. I wouldn’t be in the headspace I’m in now, one that’s lighter, hopeful, if I hadn’t gone through the absolute darkest of valleys last year. 

“Different,” I echo. “I like that.” I kiss her hair. “One thing will still be the same next year, though.” 

“What will that be?” she asks. 

“You and I will still be together.” 

Her smile is brighter than the star she had me put on top of the tree. 

“For many, many Christmases to come,” she predicts. 

I kiss her and we dissolve into a tangle of limbs right there on the couch. A couple of hours later, I drag myself upstairs to the lofted bedroom, all three dogs in tow. I pull the blankets back and climb into bed. Tairn and Sgaeyl make themselves comfortable in the oversized dog bed I bought for them once Violet started spending the night here more often. Andarna, however, catapults into the bed and deems it play time. 

“Every damn night,” I grumble as she bats at me to play with her. “It’s bedtime, Andarna.” She gives a little jump, a low, playful bark. I chuckle. “No. You had a walk earlier, and you just went out.” She does it again. I reach out a hand and scratch behind her ear. She leans into it. “You should be tired after all the time you spent trying to steal ornaments.” 

Her answer is to flop onto her back and make a show out of rolling around in the blankets. I chuckle again and cover my eyes with my forearm. She stretches out beside me, and I absentmindedly bury my hand in her fur to give her her usual bedtime scratch. I know she’s technically Violet’s dog, but I’ve come to think of her as sort of mine, too. Tairn is completely devoted to Violet and is like Sgaeyl in the sense that he doesn’t love affection, save for the occasional pat on the head. He and Sgaeyl are content to follow one another around and play with each other and only each other and maybe Andarna when we take them to the dog park. Andarna, on the other hand, loves everyone she meets, but I think she and I might have our own bond, too. 

“Andarna,” comes Violet’s voice, “you know you’re not allowed in the bed.” 

I chuckle again and move my arm away so I can see Violet. 

“Every single night,” I say to her. I give Andarna one last scratch before she dutifully gets out of bed and goes to her own bed. She’ll be back in this bed by morning, though. She always finds a way to join us after we’ve fallen asleep. “You going to read for a while, or are you ready to sleep?” 

“Sleep,” Violet decides as she joins me. “I have days and days ahead of me to read whatever I want whenever I want.” She lays on her side to face me. I turn so I’m doing the same. She smiles at me as I brush her hair away from her features. “Thank you for yesterday and today. The hotel stay, the tree farm, decorating… I needed it.” 

“You’re welcome,” I nod. “Selfishly, it wasn’t just for you, though. I needed it, too. These last couple of weeks of your finals and my gym opening have really cut into my Violet time.” 

She chuckles at ‘Violet time,’ but then her eyes widen. 

“You skipped work today! I didn’t even realize! I’ve been so locked in on my exam schedule that I didn’t even think about the fact that today is Friday. You’re usually at the gym… And you have the new gym…” 

“That’s what’s great about being my own boss. I get to do whatever the hell I want. Liam and Garrick covered my classes and there was nothing else I needed to do that I can’t get done tomorrow or another day. The contractor for the new space had a couple of questions, but he sent them via text, and I handled it. Spending time with my woman was way more important.” 

“Thank you,” she says again, moving so she can rest in my arms. I’m all too happy to welcome her into them. “It’s been a really great couple of days. Minus yesterday’s final.” 

“Which you passed with flying colors I’m told.” 

“Well, yeah, but I still had to take it.” I laugh and hug her closer. 

“Goodnight, Violet. I love you.” 

“Goodnight, Xaden.” She pecks my lips. “I love you, too.”

“Why am I always involved in your construction projects?” 

I glance up from the weight wrack I’m assembling to see Garrick watching me, parts to another weight rack scattered around him. 

“You volunteer,” I remind him. “How did it go this morning? We worked out, I coached a class, said ‘I’m headed to the Manhattan gym to build some equipment, call or text if anything comes up, be back for evening classes.’ You said ‘do you need any help?’ And now you’re here.” 

“Remind me to not offer to help the next time I do it,” he grumbles. 

“Why would I do that?” I ask. “I’m not going to turn down the offer of help.” I reach for another piece of rack. “Besides, you usually get a meal out of it.” 

“True,” Garrick reasons. “Speaking of, we’re DoorDashing something for lunch in like a half hour.” I chuckle and agree. 

“How’s the FBI thing going?” I ask a few minutes later. While I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of the FBI once everything was said and done, Garrick decided to continue his career with them. He works mostly from home hacking into things and investigating cybercrimes. If anyone met him on the street, they would have no idea he’s a genius at getting into things other people can’t.  

I listen as he tells me what he can about what he’s working on. It at least sounds a hell of a lot tamer than anything he did with me and for that, I’m grateful. All I want out of life now is for the people I love to be safe and happy. I suppose that’s all I’ve ever really wanted, but now that I’ve gained some clarity and logged countless hours of therapy, I know I’m not solely responsible for that safety and happiness. It’s one hell of a burden off my back. 

We end up leaving the in-progress gym in search of lunch, find a diner around the corner. I stick to a club sandwich and chips while Garrick orders half the menu. “Oh,” I remember as we eat, “I’m supposed to ask you what you’re doing for Christmas this year.” 

“Riorson House,” he answers between mouthfuls. “Eleanor had Violet confirm my plans since you kept forgetting to do it.” 

“I don’t know if I love or hate Grandma having Violet do my dirty work,” I muse. I like that they’re so close, though. It’s been a while since Grandma had another woman around with my mom and aunt gone. With Violet’s own grandparents gone, her sister deployed, and her relationship with her mother polite at best, the relationship with my grandmother is good for her, too. Even if they gang up on me a little too often for my liking. 

“How’s that going, anyway?” Garrick asks. “You and Violet? I mean, it looks like it’s great from the outside looking in…” 

“Things are good,” I nod. “We’ve both been so busy lately, her with finals, me with the gyms. It’s been nice to have her around more the last few days.” 

“I bet it has,” Garrick says, his tone insinuating. I try and fail to hide a coy grin. He chuckles but turns more serious. “It’s good to see you both doing well, apart and together.” 

“I’m optimistic about where things are going,” I say diplomatically. Garrick stares at me. “What?” 

“Xaden Riorson just said ‘optimistic,’” he answers. “I need a moment to comprehend that.” 

“Credit that to almost a year of therapy,” I say. “Turns out, not everything is bad, not everyone has ulterior motives, and I’m not solely responsible for the health and well-being of everyone I care about.”  

“Your therapist deserves a raise,” Garrick determines. 

“I’ve probably paid his entire salary all on my own,” I counter. “My dad is still a fucking asshole, so his paycheck is secured for the foreseeable future.” 

Among other issues and traumas I’m still working through. 

“Fen piss you off today?” Garrick asks carefully. I can be touchy about my dad. One day, I’m fairly okay with him. The next day, he sends a perfectly harmless text to check in or I remember something he said or did from years ago and I hate him all over again. Fen Riorson has taught me that you can, in fact, both love and hate someone at the same time. 

“Not directly,” I admit. I reach for my drink. “Give it a day or two, though.” I take a sip, watch Garrick drag several fries through a mixture of mayonnaise and ketchup. “That’s disgusting.” 

“Been trying to get you to try it for years,” he replies. “You’d change your mind if you tasted it.” 

“Highly doubt it,” I shake my head. We finish our meal and head back to my new gym. Garrick strolls a few steps ahead of me, hands in his pockets, whistling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I meander, though, taking in the windows of shops we pass with their festive decor and signs indicating sales on their merchandise. 

“You thinking about buying,” Garrick pauses to read one the sidewalk sign in front of me, “two fuzzy sweaters to get a third free?” 

“I’m looking for inspiration,” I counter. “I have no idea what to get Violet for Christmas.” 

“Books,” Garrick says easily. “Get her books. Hell, upgrade her kindle.” 

“I buy her books all the time. I gave her a first edition of her favorite book last Christmas. She bought herself a new Kindle as a congratulation on getting into law school gift.” 

“Jewelry,” he continues. “Women love jewelry.” 

“Have you met Violet?” I ask. 

“Yes. Pretty sure she wears jewelry.” 

“She’s not the kind of woman who will be swayed by shiny things,” I remind him. I let myself be vulnerable for a moment, not just because I need to be, but because I know Garrick’s pride gets a little wounded on occasion when he feels left out of my personal baggage. I’ve spent a lot of time with Bodhi, leaned on Bodhi, especially earlier this year when he was the one drilling the lock off my condo and demanding I get help. Garrick isn’t the bleeding heart that Bodhi is, but he still cares. He still wants to be there for me. “I need it to be something special. Last Christmas, I was barely holding it together. She and I were on the rocks, and I imploded a couple of days later. I just – want this year to be different. Better. For all of us.” 

Garrick claps my shoulder, squeezes it before he lets go. “You’ll figure it out. You have a way of coming through for the people you love.” Fuck if my heart doesn’t twist at that affirmation. It would mean a lot from anyone, but it’s a little more special from Garrick. He’s been there from the very beginning. We don’t get into the deepest shit often – that’s more for me and Bodhi – but when we do, his words tend to hit a little harder. We resume walking. “For the record? Everything is better.” He grins at me. “For all of us.” 

I find Violet asleep on my couch when I get home from coaching a couple of private clients that evening. She has a throw over her, her Kindle on the ground next to her. Sgaeyl and Tairn are curled up together on their downstairs bed, don’t even give me the courtesy of lifting their heads to acknowledge my presence. Andarna is curled up in a tight ball at Violet’s feet. On the couch. Where she’s not supposed to be. The only place in this whole loft the dogs are banned from because the couch is leather, and their toenails are sharp. She makes eye contact and is quick to tuck her head, hide her eyes, like if she can’t see me, I can’t see her. I decide to let her have this one, mostly so I don’t wake Violet in the chaos of getting her off the couch. 

I try to be quiet as I make my way to the kitchen and find a glass. I fill it with water from the fridge dispenser, stand there and sip, taking in the scene. The only word I have for it is cozy. Only the Christmas tree and a single lamp are lit, my woman curled up on the couch, our dogs content to snooze through it all. A year ago, this was impossible. Hell, if asked even six months ago, I think I might have thought it at least unlikely, if not impossible, then, too. 

Yet this is real life. 

The love of my life is here, with me, in a loft I remodeled mostly myself, only finished the work a month or so ago. I’m free from the FBI, free from Riorson Enterprises with the exception of an occasional board meeting. My gym is doing well, the second one will open with the New Year, presales of memberships are already trending ahead of Bodhi and I’s projections. It was hell to get here and not every day is a good one, but I’m so damn grateful this is my life. 

So. Damn. Grateful. 

Violet stirs. I watch as she blinks her eyes open. 

“Hi,” she greets, her voice a little sleepy. 

“Hi,” I reply with a smile. “Did I wake you?” 

“No,” she shakes her head as she sits up, the blanket falling around her waist. She stretches her arms overhead. “What time is it?” 

“Not quite seven.” I fill my glass again but keep my attention on her. She’s so damn beautiful like this, hair messy, sleep in her features.  

“You’re early,” she says. “You’re usually done closer to eight on Thursdays.” 

“My six o’clock is out of town, and it’s Liam’s night to close the gym.” I put my glass on the counter. “I was going to take a quick shower, then give you a call, see if you wanted to get dinner or maybe dessert if you’d already eaten.” 

“I actually bought ingredients to make you dinner,” she says. “Chicken pad Thai.” She gives me a little smile as she stands. “I know you love it. I’ve practiced it a few times at my place. It’s not great, but it’s decent.” 

“Sounds great,” I say, my insides warming at the gesture. It’s such a small thing in the grand scheme of things, Violet making me dinner, but I’ve worked hard to allow people to take care of me. Letting her cook dinner for me is a big deal to me. I move to meet her on the other side of the long kitchen island that separates the kitchen from the rest of the open floor plan of the loft. I pull her to me as she reaches for me. “Hi, love.” 

“Hi.” She folds into my arms, burrows into me. “How was your day?” 

“Productive,” I answer as I hug her. Something is bothering her. I don’t know how I know, I just – know. “Got a workout in early, taught a couple of morning classes, got the rest of the racks put together at the new gym with Garrick.” 

“Did you buy him food to thank him?” she guesses. 

“We went to a diner a few blocks down from the gym for lunch. I can confirm he is still an absolute pig.” 

“He mixed his mayo and ketchup, didn’t he?” 

“Disgusting,” I confirm. She chuckles into my chest. “Then I came back to the Brooklyn gym, did my personal training sessions.” I tug at a chunk of hair that has fallen out of her messy ponytail. “Came home to a beautiful woman asleep on my couch.” 

“Is it okay that I’m here?” she asks. 

An asinine question. 

“I gave you a key for a reason, love.” Her answer is to snuggle further into my chest. I start rubbing her back. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Violet.” 

“Everything is okay,” she insists. “I just…” She pulls back to look up at me. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I had a nightmare and then I just… thought about it all day.” 

“And you had therapy,” I understand. I draw her back to me. “Come here.” She curls back into my chest. I rub soothing circles on her back. 

“I just… wanted to be with you,” she says, her voice muffled by my shirt. I hug her tighter. 

“You can call me,” I say gently, reminding her she isn’t a burden or an obligation, the way she told me a couple of months ago that she felt in her last relationship, felt as her mother’s daughter. Sometimes she needs a reminder that things are different now. “Even if it’s three o’clock in the morning. Especially if it’s three o’clock in the morning and you’re upset.” She doesn’t answer, just tries to get even closer. I hold her tighter, wrestle with my own guilt of not being there to comfort her last night, of being the reason she’s having nightmares in the first place, even though, rationally, I know I’m not to blame, entirely, at least, for what happened to her and Bodhi. “You sure you want cook dinner? We can save the ingredients for tomorrow, go out, order in, whatever you want.” 

“I want to cook us dinner,” she insists. She pulls back, her hands sliding up to rest on my shoulders, her eyes back on mine. “And maybe go to bed early?” 

“We’ll go to bed early,” I promise. I lean in to kiss her. “I’ll be quick in the shower.” 

I leave her to start dinner after one more tight hug and her reassurance that she’s okay. 

It’s no wonder her nightmares have increased lately. We just went through the one-year anniversary of her and Bodhi’s kidnapping, for one, and now we’re deep in the legal side of things, too, as the people involved are brought to justice. I’ve done everything I can, and to her credit, so has Lilith Sorrengail, to shield Violet and Bodhi from it as much as possible. None of us have said it out loud, but none of us want them to have to testify. It’s bad enough that they have each to relive what happened to them a few times over to give statements. A few more months and it should be over for good. 

Even if none of us will ever forget it. 

I make quick work in the shower as promised. When I step out into the rest of the loft, Violet is in the kitchen, Andarna with her, waiting for a morsel to hit the floor. Tairn and Sgaeyl have switched places and that’s it. I come behind Violet, scratching Andarna on the head as I pass her, and put my hands on Violet’s hips, kiss her neck. 

“Need some help?” 

“I’ve got it.” She tilts her head back for a kiss I readily grant. “Thank you, though.” She lifts the lid, stirs a concoction that smells decent. She’s been teaching herself how to cook and sometimes she fails, but I love watching her try. “The dogs could probably use a walk…” 

“You just don’t want to go out in the cold,” I tease. 

“Dinner will be ready when you get back,” she quips, making me chuckle. 

“Fine,” I agree. “I’ll take the opportunity to try to explain to Andarna – again – why none of them are allowed on the couch.” 

“Good luck,” Violet says. “She was on the floor when I fell asleep. She nosed her way up there as soon as the coast was clear.” 

I’m not entirely sure I believe that story, but I don’t question it. I wrangle Andarna onto a leash and whistle for Tairn and Sgaeyl. Twice, because it appears they don’t agree that they need to go out. By the time I come back, the loft smells delicious. I pass out treats like the dealer I am and then head back to the kitchen. 

“It’s just about ready,” Violet says. “Can you get the plates?”  

I love this. I love the domesticity, the ease we have now that we didn’t before, even when we were living together. Rebuilding our relationship from the ground up has been worth every single hard moment. Every tear shed. Every sleepless night. 

Every tentative smile or light touch that brought us back to one another. 

I open the cabinet to retrieve the requested plates, but my eyes fall on two red tins on the counter below it. One holds the thin gingerbread snaps I like. The other is full of peppermint bark. 

“Where did these come from?” I ask Violet, motioning at them. She gives me a little smile over her shoulder as she stirs the pad Thai.

“Eleanor told me you liked them. I was doing a little Christmas shopping after therapy today and I saw them, picked them up for you.” 

I stare at her in wonder. It’s just cookies and peppermint bark, but it’s so thoughtful. I’m significantly better at letting people do things for me, help me, but sometimes, it still catches me off guard, especially when it’s something so clearly done for me like this is. Like her learning to cook one of my favorite meals. 

“Thank you,” I say. That’s all I need to say. She understands. 

“You’re welcome,” she smiles, goes back to her pan. 

I take the plates out, set them on the counter, then open the gingersnap tin. I freaking love these things, but I don’t think I’ve had them in at least three Christmases, if not more. I open one of the sealed sleeves within, pop one in my mouth, then head to Violet. 

“Try one.” I offer her the sleeve. She takes one, bites into it while I help myself to another. 

“It’s good,” she nods. “They will be great with coffee in the morning.” 

“If there are any left in the morning,” I say, only kind of joking. I lean on the counter and help myself to another. I’m on my fourth one when I realize she’s trying not to laugh at me. “What?”

“I have never, in the time I’ve known you, seen you so willing cram sweets in your mouth.” I open my mouth. She points her spatula at me. “Do not make a sex joke.” I chuckle because that is exactly what I was about to do. 

“My mom used to buy these,” I tell her. “We went through several tins every Christmas. She would have them with coffee, me and Dad would snack on them throughout the day. I don’t know what it is about these particular cookies, but I’ve never been able to turn them down.” I offer her another one. She takes it. “These are my Oreos.” 

She laughs and then she’s asking me to pass her a plate. 

It’s a good evening. Her pad Thai isn’t half bad and we catch up on our days as we eat at the kitchen island, then move to the couch with the cookies and the peppermint bark. We curl up together, I let Violet pick out a movie, and when she falls asleep halfway through it, I carry her upstairs to bed. She wakes only enough to thread her arms around my neck, and then to sigh into the comforts of her pillow as she snuggles in. I take out the dogs again, turn off the lights, and join her. She doesn’t have another dream, but if she does, I’m there, ready. 

Dream or not, I hold her close all night.

The knocking has barely started before I’m swinging the door open. 

“You’re being weird.” 

“I’m not being weird,” Liam states. 

“You’re being weird,” I repeat. “‘Are you home? Is Violet there? Can I come over?’ You’re being fucking weird.” 

“I need to talk to you about something,” Liam says. “I’d prefer not to do it in the hallway, so will you let me in?” 

I step aside to allow him entry. Sgaeyl is unbothered, but Tairn, who decided he wasn’t leaving when Violet left earlier to go back to her place, lifts his head to watch Liam, ever on guard duty. I don’t think it’s me he’s guarding, though. He’d probably stand by and watch if it was my life on the line. Violet or Sgaeyl though? Good luck. 

“Everything okay?” I ask, an automatic reflex even now. 

“Yeah, fine, everything is fine,” he says as he runs his hands over his pants, a nervous tick. “I just… need to talk to you about something. I wanted it to be just us and didn’t want to risk being overheard, so hence me asking if you’re home and if Violet is here.” 

“Are you dying?” I ask him, only kind of joking as I sit down on the couch. He perches on the very edge of an armchair. 

“You’re being an ass.” 

“You’re being weird,” I say one more time. “What’s wrong, Liam? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You know that.” 

He takes a deep breath. 

“Nothing is wrong,” he says. “I just… I want to ask…” He pauses, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. My heart rate has to be double what’s normal at this point. He opens his eyes and looks at me. “I want to ask Bodhi to marry me.” 

Relief floods me. 

“That’s it?” I question. 

“That’s a pretty big thing,” Liam counters. 

“No, it is,” I agree. “But I seriously thought you or Sloane were in some kind of trouble, or you were going to tell me some other horrific life-altering news. You were being weird.” 

“I was nervous!” he exclaims. “I’m asking you for your permission to marry your cousin!” 

Wait. 

Permission? 

What?

“What?” I ask out loud. 

“I’m asking for your permission to marry Bodhi.” He gazes at me, more serious than I’ve ever seen him outside of those terrifying hours when Bodhi was in surgery, and we weren’t sure if he would live. “I love him, Xaden. I almost lost him. I want to spend my life with him.” 

“Why are you asking me for permission?” I question. 

“Who else would I ask?” Liam counters. “His parents are gone. You basically raised him.” He pauses for a moment. “And me. You basically raised me, too. Your blessing would mean a lot to me. To Bodhi, too.” 

It’s suddenly hard to talk. I swallow down the ball of emotions that has swelled seemingly out of nowhere, then swallow again. I have to clear my throat before I can talk. Meanwhile, Liam looks like he might spontaneously combust from nerves. 

“You don’t need my permission,” I tell him, my voice cracking. I clear my throat again. “There is no one else I’d rather see my cousin married to. If you need my blessing though, you’ve got it. All I ask if that you love him well.” 

A few tears leak down Liam’s cheeks. He looks away to brush them aside. 

“I will,” he promises, looking back at me. “That’s the easiest promise I can make. I love him, Xaden. I’m going to do everything I can to give him a good life.” 

My words fail me. So I stand instead, pull Liam to his feet, and hug him, hard. “I’m proud of you,” I tell him as I hug him. “I don’t know if I’ve told you that lately, but I’m really proud of you.” 

He’s grown up over the last year. He hasn’t lost his cheekiness or his inclination for a good time, but there’s a more serious tilt to him now. He’s focused, knows who he is, what he wants. He’s gotten certified as a strength coach, is studying for nutrition certification now. He’s gone all in on his career as a personal trainer and he’s stepped up massively at the gym while I work on opening the second one. He doesn’t know it yet, but I plan to make him Director of Programming once the Manhattan gym opens. 

He also loves Bodhi the way I love Violet – fiercely, deeply, and unconditionally. 

“I’m proud of you,” he says, gives me a squeeze. “We all are, Xaden.” 

I still don’t have words. So I just hug him a little longer. When we pull apart, we both try to play off the fact that our eyes are damp, and our emotions are painted on our faces. 

“How are you going to do it?” I ask as we sit back down. I listen to him detail his plan, offer my approval even though he doesn’t need it. 

“Do me a favor and don’t tell Violet?” Liam requests. “Or Garrick, for that matter? Especially Garrick. He has the biggest mouth in the history of the world.” 

“I assume that means you haven’t mentioned it to Sloane?” I ask. 

“God no,” he shakes his head, making me chuckle.  

“Your secret is safe with me,” I tell him. He eyes me. “It is!” I insist. “But why not tell Violet? She’s going to be thrilled for you.” 

“Because Bodhi and Violet are thicker than thieves,” Liam says. “Did you know they went to the spa together the other day? She met Bodhi for lunch and then they got pedicures.” 

“I did know that,” I nod. “I’m pretty sure they bitch about us to each other.” 

“I used to bitch about Bodhi to Violet,” Liam laments. “Then Bodhi went and took a bullet for her and stole my best friend.” I chuckle and so does Liam. “Seriously, keep your mouth shut. I want to surprise him.” 

I assure him I’ll keep his secret. We catch up for a few minutes, and then he’s leaving, citing needing to get back to the Manhattan condo he shares with Bodhi for dinner. I walk him to the door.  

“Is Bodhi going to ask me for permission to marry you?” I ask. “Like you said, I raised you, too.” 

“Probably not,” he answers. “Anyone with Riorson DNA seems to do whatever the hell they want.” I chuckle because he’s not wrong. “Keep your mouth shut. I mean it.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave him off. “Spar in the morning?” 

“Around eight?” he counters. 

“That should work,” I nod. He waves a hand at me and starts down the hall. “Liam?” He turns back, lifts an eyebrow in question. Christmas is ten days away and I’m desperate, so I have to do what I have to do. “Any ideas on what I can get Violet for Christmas?” 

“Books,” he says easily. “Obviously.” 

“Useless,” I mutter under my breath as I shake my head. He just laughs and waves at me before disappearing down the stairs. I close and lock my door, then pick up my phone from the coffee table. Tairn lifts his head to judge me for what I’m about to do. “Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him. “It’s for his own good.” 

I call Violet. 

“Hi,” she greets. 

“Hi, love,” I reply. “You busy?”

“Just waiting for Ridoc and Sawyer to get here so we can go to dinner,” she reports. “What’s up?” 

“I have a dilemma,” I report. “I’m about to make it our dilemma because fuck if I know what to do.” 

“What’s going on?” Violet asks. 

“Liam is going to propose to Bodhi.” 

She’s quiet for a moment and then another. 

“But… He can’t,” she says. “Bodhi is going to propose to him!” 

“Hence, the dilemma,” I state. “I’m also not supposed to tell you, because you and Bodhi tell each other everything, apparently.” 

Violet is quiet on her end of the phone. I can practically hear her thinking. 

“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” 

Suspicion erupts. 

“Explain,” I request. 

“I’ll come over after dinner and we’ll work out our plan.” 

“Our plan?” I question. 

“I have a loose plan,” she continues, like she doesn’t hear me. I know damn well she does. “We’ll fine tune it tonight.” I hear Rhiannon call for her in the background. “I’ll be over in a few hours. I love you!” 

“I love…” 

She hangs up. I scowl at my phone and go to call her right back, but she’s already calling me. 

“In a hurry?” I answer. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Less in a hurry, more excited. My mind is going a mile a minute. I know it’s important to you to tell me you love me, so I thought I’d let you finish that sentence.” 

I smile a bit. She knows how I beat myself up over not telling her I loved her the morning she was kidnapped, knows my determination to always tell her I love her when we part ways, be it in person or on the phone. This isn’t the first time she’s been in a hurry or excited and cut me off. We’ve argued about it as recently as last month. The fact that she acknowledged it and called me right back means a lot to me. 

“I love you,” I tell her. “Thank you for calling me back so I can tell you.” 

“I love you, too,” she says, a smile in her voice. “More than anything. I’m sorry for being so rushed just now.” 

“All is forgiven,” I promise her. “You can make it up to me by staying here tonight.” 

“I’ll stay with you, but I can think of better ways to make it up to you…” I press my lips together at the insinuation. “I do have to get going – we have reservations – but I’ll be over in a bit and we can work out our dilemma ahead of any reconciliation that needs to take place.” 

“Okay,” I agree. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

She’s at my door three hours later with Andarna in tow. She’s a little tipsy, not so much she’s impaired, enough that her inhibitions are lowered, and the next thing I know, I’m on the couch, my legs spread wide, Violet between them giving me one hell of a blow job. 

In hindsight, I think it’s that blow job and the sex that followed that had me agreeing to the mess I’m in now. 

I’m leaning against the counter in Violet and Rhiannon’s kitchen while Violet stands nearby, arms crossed, concentration unshakeable. Bodhi sits at the small kitchen island looking forlorn. 

“I thought you were supposed to be happy about getting engaged,” I state. 

“I am happy,” Bodhi says. “But I am supposed to be the one proposing! I have a plan!” 

“It’s a very good plan,” Violet offers. 

“I know!” Bodhi exclaims with an exaggerated wave of his arm. “It’s an excellent plan.” 

“What’s wrong with Liam’s plan?” I question. 

“Nothing,” Bodhi shakes his head. “Except his plan is planned before my plan.” 

“We can figure this out,” Violet tells him. Her and Bodhi are a level of serious necessary for something like a jewel heist, not conflicting proposals. “He’s planning to propose in five days?” 

“At the restaurant where we had our last first date,” he nods. 

“Last first date?” I interject. “How many first dates were there?” 

“My proposal is supposed to be on New Year’s Eve,” Bodhi says, ignoring me. 

“Which is two weeks from now,” Violet says, that brilliant mind of hers calculating. I’m more concerned about the fact that Christmas is one week, and I haven’t figured out a present for Violet, but I guess I’ll worry about Bodhi’s presumed problem for now. “Okay, you have two options, Bodhi. You can either let him propose, or you can beat him to it by moving up your plans.” 

“I’m moving up plans,” Bodhi says without hesitation. 

“Is that really necessary?” I ask. “You went through a lot of trouble for this whole New Year’s Eve thing. Just keep those plans but make it a celebration or something.”  

“Xaden and I will help you,” Violet says. I shake my head. Neither of them is listening to me. 

“Okay,” Bodhi nods. “I just… I need to make some calls…” 

I know I shouldn’t say it, or at least that pointing it out is useless, but I do it anyway. 

“Does it really matter who proposes first?” 

They both look at me. “Yes!” they answer in unison. 

“Why?” I continue. “Isn’t the point to be happily married? Why are we trying to beat Liam to bragging rights?” 

“Because I’ve been planning my proposal for two months,” Bodhi states. “We were going to get dressed up, have dinner with you people,” he waves around at me and Violet and I assume the rest of our crew, “and then I was going to lure him away to the rooftop that I rented out and we were going to have a bird’s eye view of the city, just us and a champagne bucket, and when the clock struck midnight and everyone below us was cheering and confetti was falling around us, I was going to get down on one knee and ask him to be my husband.”  

“So romantic,” Violet sighs. My eyes flicker to her, then back to Bodhi. 

“How do you know Liam hasn’t been planning his proposal for two months?” 

“Whose side are you on?” Bodhi questions. 

“I am on no one’s side,” I say. “I’m neutral.” 

“You’re on Bodhi’s side,” Violet informs me. I raise an eyebrow at her. The look she gives me dares me to challenge her. I open my mouth to do just that. 

“I hate to do this,” Bodhi says before I can get out what is probably not going to be a helpful comment. “I know you’re sensitive about it and you don’t like to talk about it. But I have to do it. I have to pull my trump card.” I shift all my attention to him. He’s deadly serious. “I took a bullet for her.” I scowl. “A bullet. You have no choice here, Xaden. You’re on my side.” 

“You’re right,” I state. “I don’t like talking about it and I don’t like you using it to get your way.” 

“Are you really going to tell me no?” he asks. 

I glare at him. He looks right back, already well fucking aware that I’m going to give in and help him wreck Liam’s plans. 

“I hate you,” I inform him. He chuckles. Violet giggles, too. I shift my look to her. “I don’t like you very much right now either.” She crosses the kitchen and kisses my cheek in response as bells ring through the house. It’s Andarna, signaling that she needs to go out. Violet has trained her to nudge a set of bells hanging from the front door when she needs to go. She does it every time at Violet’s. I have them by my door, too, but to date, she just sits in front of it and cries until one of us takes her out.   

“As long as you love me,” she quips. “I’m going to take the dogs out.”  

“I can…” I start. 

“I’ve got them,” she says. “Be back in a few.” 

I breathe through the pang I still get in my chest when she leaves my sight. My rational mind knows she’s okay, that she’s safe now, that they can’t hurt her anymore. The part of me that vividly remembers every moment of raiding that warehouse and finding her beaten and broken while Bodhi bled out from a gunshot wound still clenches in fear in the first moments of her walking out the door. 

“You good?” Bodhi asks because he knows me, knows what I deal with more than anyone, except, maybe, Violet, although if I’m honest with myself, he might edge out even her. 

“I’m good,” I nod. “I always lose a breath or two when she first leaves my sight.” 

“She’s okay,” he reminds me in that gentle but no-nonsense way of his. “She’s safe.” I nod my agreement. He grins at me. “You should be taking notes right now.” 

“Notes?” I question. 

“You’re planning to marry her one day, right?” he asks. 

“I am,” I nod. “We’re not there yet, probably won’t happen until she’s finished law school, but yeah, I’m going to marry her.” 

I’m absolutely sure about that. It may not be for another couple of years or so, but I’m going to marry Violet. 

“Then pay attention,” he advises me. “You heard her sighing over how romantic my initial proposal was. Make a mental note for your own proposal.” 

He has a point. A proposal is not my immediate concern, however. 

“You spend a lot of time with her. Any ideas on what to get her for Christmas?” 

“Don’t get her books,” he advises. I lift my eyes to the ceiling and exhale. “You buy her books all the time. Don’t get her a nice bag, either. Grandma and Grandpa got her one that she can carry all her law school crap in. Liam and I had bought her one, too, but we returned it because Grandma got theirs monogrammed. We got her a great pair of earrings instead.” He tilts his head as he looks at me. “You could go the jewelry route…” 

“She’s not into flashy jewelry,” I remind him, even though he just said they got her earrings. 

“You’re thinking small,” he tells me. “There’s jewelry, and then there’s sentimental jewelry. You can also get her an experience. Honestly, I’d think about that. She likes spending time with you more than I think you realize. Law school and your gyms keep you two pretty busy right now. Giving her your time is going to mean more to her than giving her a thing, you know?” 

I say nothing because he’s hit me right in the gut. Not in a bad way, just in a ‘remember not to take her for granted’ way. I’m spared from having to answer by the return of Violet. The dogs trot into the kitchen before she gets there. 

“Can they have treats?” I call out, already reaching for the canister on the counter. That’s her rule – they go to the bathroom, they get treats. It’s mostly a rule for Andarna who tried to cheat the system for a while by ringing her bell to go outside even though she didn’t need to pee, just to get a treat for ringing said bell. Violet put an end to that real quick. 

“Yeah,” she calls back. I hear one boot hit the ground, a second one a moment later. I pass out treats while she takes off the layers she put on to take them out. I’ll take over bathroom breaks from here. It’s getting darker and colder by the minute. I’d rather be the one out in the elements. She walks into the kitchen with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “I have an idea.”

I fumble with my keys at my front door. I had a digital lock bought and ready to install, but Violet commented on how much she liked the vintage look of the hardware on the door, so I changed the lock in case any former tenants still had a key and left it. Right now, I’m regretting that particular design choice. Second time is a charm. I unlatch the door and swing it up. 

Violet is waiting on the other side, standing in the middle of the open space, arms crossed. 

“Violet…” I wasn’t expecting her. 

“Garrick called,” she informs me. She points to the couch. “Sit down.” 

“Fucking Garrick,” I grumble. I limp to the couch and drop to the cushions. She perches on the coffee table. 

“Let’s see it.” 

“I’m fine,” I try. She just looks at me. I mutter under my breath, but I prop my foot up next to her. She pushes the leg of my athletic pants up. I try and fail to hide my hiss of pain. Her eyes flicker to me, but she keeps her focus on my ankle. 

“It’s swollen,” she says. “Black and blue, too.” She puts her hands on either side of my ankle to get a better look. I gasp and reflex has me trying to pull away. “How bad is the pain?” 

“I’m tolerating it.” 

“Try again. Scale of one to ten, ten being the worst.” 

“Six,” I lie. 

“At least an eight, then,” she interprets. “I’m going to take your shoe off.” 

“Let’s leave it on,” I bargain. “Maybe forever.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” she promises as she unties the laces. To her credit, she is gentle. It just hurts like absolute hell. “What, exactly, happened?” 

“I was unpacking the weight plates, stepped on a forty-five-pound bumper plate, and rolled the shit out of it,” I admit. “I may be willing to admit it’s worse than I thought it was, but I’m still not willing to admit it’s as bad as your face says it is.” 

“You did this at the Manhattan gym?” she clarifies. I nod. “Xaden! You were there this morning! You were back in Brooklyn by lunch!” 

“And?” 

“And it’s almost eight o’clock!” she shrieks. “You have been hobbling around on this thing for hours, you stubborn ass!” I think I might be in trouble. “We texted several times, and you called me twice. You didn’t think to mention it?” 

“See my previous comment admitting it’s worse than I thought it was,” I say. She makes an annoyed sort of noise. I reach out a hand and give Sgaeyl who has come to investigate my current state a pat on the head. Andarna is on the other side of me, leaning towards the couch. I give it under two minutes before she’s trying to sneak on it. 

“You weren’t going to say a word about it,” she continues. I open my mouth to defend myself. “Don’t dare try to talk your way out of it. Garrick told me you were hurt and not willing to admit it. Apparently he tried to get you to let him drive you to urgent care and you wouldn’t let him.” 

“I just need some ice, some ibuprofen, and to prop it up,” I say. 

“You can barely walk,” she informs me, like I’m not fully aware of the fact that I can’t put much weight on my ankle. 

“Is this the part where we argue over whether or not I’m going to the ER to get an x-ray?” I ask. An obnoxious knock sounds at my door. 

“Good, they’re here.” She stands and goes to the door. 

“Who’s here?” I question. She ignores me. A fluffy dog head lands on my lap. Andarna has slipped onto the couch undetected. I don’t bother shooing her off, just bury a hand in her hair and take the comfort she’s trying to give me. Sgaeyl is still sitting sentry at my side while Tairn watches Violet’s every move. 

Violet swings the door open. 

“Hello, poppet!” Naolin sings, Brennan at his side. 

Fuck me. I’m not in the mood for these two. 

“I hear we have a medical emergency?” Naolin continues. 

“Thanks for coming over,” she says, stepping aside to let them in. “His ankle is the size of a grapefruit and several colors of black and blue.” I glare at her as she leads them over to the couch. She gives it right back. 

“Well played,” I tell her. 

“What good is having two doctors in the family if you can’t call in a favor from time to time?” she asks. 

“You’ve had me call in UTI meds twice,” Naolin reminds her. Violet punches him in the arm. He laughs. Brennan shakes his head and puts on what I call his doctor's face. 

“Let me have a look,” he says, taking the spot Violet had been before they knocked. Violet perches on the arm of the couch. I reach over and put a hand on her thigh. She covers it with her hand. “Tell me what happened?” I relay the story while he gently palpitates it. I put in effort to not show how bad it hurts. “I’m going to put you through a few range of motion and stability tests. It might not feel great. Tell me if you need me to stop.” I grunt my agreement. 

Then consider ending his life. 

I’m too damn proud and stubborn to tell him just how bad it fucking hurts as he moves it this way and that. I tighten my grip on Violet’s thigh and try to listen to her soothing voice telling me to breathe. 

“Your ankle is definitely broken,” Naolin determines even though all he’s done is sit there and watch. “You’re going to be trading in those boots of yours for an ankle boot, and not the cute kind.” 

“It’s not broken,” Brennan says, shooting him a look. “Definitely sprained, likely a grade two…” 

“It’s broken,” Naolin insists. “As in, it does not work, not bone in half.” 

“You’re an internal medicine doctor,” Brennan reminds him. “I’m emergency medicine. This is more my field than yours.” 

“Poppet called us both…” 

“Poppet would like the two of you to stop arguing and tell us next steps,” Violet breaks in. I like it when she uses her bossy voice on someone besides me. “He needs x-rays, I assume?” 

“Definitely needs imaging,” Brennan nods. “An x-ray should be enough to get us confirmation on the grade. I don’t think you’ve fully torn anything, but I feel pretty confident you’re going to be a solid grade two. There’s enough swelling, pain, and instability for me to think you’ve stretched or partially torn a ligament or two, though.” 

That does not sound ideal. I have too much to do for this. 

“Urgent care is probably closed by now,” Violet says. “At the very least, they have stopped taking patients for the night. Should I take him to the ER?” 

Brennan considers me. I wait for my fate. Violet isn’t going to let me off the hook, and it hurts bad enough that I’m less opposed to having it looked at than I was even an hour ago. 

“If I give you a decent pain killer, and you promise to ice it and stay off it tonight, do you think you can wait until morning for imaging?” 

“No narcotics,” I say. “I don’t want to mix them with my other meds.” 

“He needs to have it looked at,” Violet argues. “He’s already gone all day…” 

“If he goes to the ER tonight, he’s going to sit around for hours waiting to be seen,” Brennan tells her. “A sprained ankle might hurt like hell, but it’s typically not a medical emergency, at least not when there are people with chest and abdominal pains, car crash victims, gunshot wounds… He’ll get pushed further and further down the line as more severe cases come in.”

“Your job is so much cooler than mine,” Naolin laments. “I get chronic conditions and the occasional mystery infection.” 

“Literally at lunch today you told me your job was cooler than mine because of said mystery infection,” Brennan tells him. 

“That was then,” Naolin says. “This is now.” I blow out a breath. Violet rolls her eyes. If you didn’t know them, you would swear Brennan and Naolin do nothing but bicker, but they love each other deeply and their bickering is generally amusing. Unless your ankle is the subject of said bickering. 

“Can he really wait until morning?” Violet frets. 

“He can,” Brennan nods. “I’m in at seven tomorrow. Give me an hour or so to get rounds out of the way, then give me a call. I’ll let you know how busy it is, and we’ll get him in, get him seen.” He pokes at my ankle again. I debate on risking further injury by kicking him. “Got any of your wraps here, Vi?” 

She’s on her feet and hurrying upstairs. 

“Beautiful tree,” Naolin comments as he gazes around my loft. “You really have made this place into something Architect Digest adjacent.” 

“Adjacent?” I question. 

“You lack the finesse to actually be in it,” Naolin explains. “But if you let me loose in here…” 

“Absolutely not,” I shake my head while Brennan chuckles. 

“Hand over your black card and I’ll make magic happen,” he continues. He tugs at my pants. “I’ll buy you a new wardrobe, too. You’re scrumptious when Violet dresses you, but I’ll take credit for that, too. I’ve been working on her for years.” 

I give up and let my head fall back on the couch as I listen to Violet return down the stairs. She passes Brennan a set of the wraps she uses to stabilize her own joints sometimes and he sets to wrapping my ankle to stabilize it overnight. Naolin insists on being the one to call in a prescription-strength ibuprofen for me as he has self-appointed himself as Violet and I’s personal prescription pad, and then they’re on their way out. I thank them from the couch while Violet walks them to the door. 

“Let’s get some ice on that,” she determines. She finds a couple of quart-sized ziplocks and fills them from the dispenser, then props my foot on a throw pillow. 

“So that’s what these things are for,” I say in a weak attempt to make a joke. She does chuckle as she situates the ice around my ankle. 

“I’m going to go pick up your prescription,” she tells me. “The pharmacy is open until ten. Do you need anything before I go?” 

“I can just take a couple of regular ibuprofens…” 

“Xaden,” she cuts me off with a gentle hand running through my hair. “You’re in pain. Stop trying to be brave or whatever and admit it.” 

“It fucking hurts,” I confess. “When you took my shoe off, it was like it unleashed the full fury.” 

“The shoe was bracing it,” she says knowingly. 

“Take the Bronco,” I continue. “I don’t want you walking to the pharmacy or taking an Uber in the dark and cold.” 

“It’s just down the street…” 

“Take the Bronco,” I repeat. “The dogs, too. Sgaeyl and Tairn at least.” 

“Okay,” she agrees. “I won’t be long.” She stands. “Do you need anything before I go?” 

“Water?” I request. She gets me a glass, plus a sleeve of gingersnap thins and the TV remote, then kisses me first on the lips, then my forehead with a promise that she will be right back. She’s almost at the door, Tairn and Sgaeyl on her heels, when I call out for her. She stops, looks back. “Maybe pick up McDonald’s for dinner?” I request. “I could crush a couple of quarter pounders right now.” 

She laughs. “I will,” she promises. “I won’t tell Garrick, either.” I wink at her. She chuckles again. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”  

I stay on the couch, ice packed around my throbbing ankle, and only check her location once which is a massive improvement for me. She’s back within the hour, medicine in one hand, a huge bag of greasy fast food in the other. 

“I thought of something while I was out,” she says as she offers me a pill. I take it, pop it, will it to work fast. “You can’t get up the stairs to bed.” 

“I can,” I say. “I got up the stairs outside and at the gym.” 

“And how long did that take you?” she asks. Point, Violet. “Besides, the bathroom is downstairs, and I know from experience that getting down the stairs is more challenging than going up.” 

“I’m not sleeping down here while you’re up there,” I state, assuming she’s staying.  

“I thought you’d say that.” She reaches into the bag, takes out a burger, passes it to me. “You still have the air mattress from when you were doing renovations?” 

“Yeah…” 

“I’ll bring that down here, and we’ll sleep on it tonight.” 

“There’s a perfectly good bed…” 

I lose the argument.  

We eat dinner, then I announce I’m going to take a shower. I feel disgusting after a day at the gym, and don’t want to go to bed feeling like I’m covered in a fine layer of grime. There’s another small argument about whether Violet is going to help me, but she lets me figure out for myself that stepping over into the tub to shower is a whole obstacle, and then is there to help me, at least as much as she can given our size difference. She re-wraps my ankle, better than Brennan did in my opinion, then blows up the air mattress and brings the bedding down. It’s not ideal, but Violet insists on leaving the Christmas tree on, and with her in my arms, it’s more than a little cozy. We even let Andarna join us. She stretches out next to Violet, wedging our girl between us. I might have to let her sleep in the bed with us more often. 

“Violet?” I ask through the quiet. 

“Hmm?” she mutters from where she’s almost asleep on my chest. 

“Thank you for taking care of me today.” 

She lifts her head, presses a kiss to my jaw. 

“Thank you for letting me.”

Two days later, the love of my life and the cousin I consider a brother have used my sprained ankle against me. I’ve been assigned the job of ensuring Liam gets to a winery about an hour out of the city. Except it’s my right ankle that does, in fact, have a grade two sprain which means I can’t drive. Violet is with Bodhi, as are Sloane and Imogen, and I found out this morning that Liam has let his driver’s license expire citing that he either takes public transportation or has Bodhi to drive him around as the reason why. 

And that’s how Garrick gets to drive my Bronco. 

“Man, this thing has some power!” he exclaims as he accelerates a little too quickly from a stop sign. “You ever taken it off road? We should take it off road.” 

“Slow down,” I say. “Keep your eyes on the road.” 

He does not slow down. 

“Let’s go off roading,” he continues. “I don’t actually know where you do that around here, but we can find something, see what this thing is made of.” 

“You’re not taking my Bronco off road,” I state. “It’s not meant for that.” 

“It’s literally meant for that,” Liam points out from the backseat. I glare at him over my shoulder. He grins at me. He has no idea this seemingly impromptu ‘let’s go day drinking’ suggestion from Violet is actually Bodhi proposing to him. All of our friends are waiting at the vineyard, as are Rhiannon, her girlfriend Tara, Sawyer, and Ridoc who have folded into our friend group through Violet. They’re especially close to Liam and by proxy, Bodhi. 

Garrick also has no idea he’s driving us to a proposal. There was a collective agreement to keep him out of the loop because he does, in fact, have a big mouth. He is driving my fucking Bronco, though, and I hate it. 

My phone lights up with a text from Violet. 

ETA? 

30 minutes, I type back. 

Stall. 

How long? 

I’ll tell you when. 

The things I do for this woman. 

“Pull into the next gas station,” I direct. “I need to piss.” 

“We’re a half hour away,” Liam says. “You can wait.” 

“My bladder says otherwise,” I lie.  

“I could pee,” Garrick agrees. “Could go for a snack, too.” 

I do everything I can to drag my feet when we stop ten minutes later. I go to the bathroom, pretend to debate over what flavor sports drink I want, debate on whether or not I want coffee, consider a snack, change my mind several times over, decide to top the Bronco off with gas even though it still has more than a half tank. Liam and Garrick start to complain about how long I’m taking. I’m about to say fuck it and load the Bronco up when Violet texts. 

We’re ready. 

Be there in twenty. 

“About damn time,” Garrick says as he cranks up the Bronco. He pulls out of the gas bay and has to slam on the brakes to avoid t-boning a passing car. I curse violently. He looks at me. “Fantastic braking system on this thing, truly.” 

“Violet is driving me home,” I determine. “Enjoy the hell out of these last twenty minutes because this is the one and only time you drive my Bronco.” 

“I’ll take that bet,” Garrick decides as he eases out of the parking lot. I let my head fall back. I have said the wrong thing. “Why isn’t Violet with us anyway? And Bodhi, too, for that matter? We could have taken less vehicles if they rode with us.” 

“Violet was in Manhattan to meet up with a law school friend for coffee, so she hopped a ride with Bodhi.” The lie comes easily. It’s also not totally a lie. She and Bodhi did get coffee this morning on their way out to the vineyard, there was just no law school friend. 

“What is the point of this whole adventure today, anyway?” Liam questions. “I mean, I guess it’s cool we’re all skipping out of work or whatever to go day drinking, but it feels out of character.” 

“It was Violet’s idea,” I say. Again, not totally a lie. She tossed the idea out to Bodhi about essentially recreating his proposal, just sooner. Bodhi was the one who decided to move it to this vineyard. Apparently they decided to give their relationship a real go over glasses of wine at said vineyard. He’s called in a dozen favors, and even managed to get the restaurant where Liam’s proposal was planned to cater our lunch. My only job is to get Liam there. 

And to keep Garrick from ruining the surprise. 

We park and I spot Grandpa and Grandma's Mercedes parked near the entrance as I fire off a ‘we’re here’ text to Violet and Bodhi. 

“Is that your grandpa’s car?” Garrick questions. 

“Looks like it,” I say. I’m on crutches, my ankle in an air cast, moving slower than molasses in these cold temperatures. I hate it. “Grandma and Violet are close. It wouldn’t surprise me if Violet asked them to join us.” 

“Guess I’ll have to behave,” Garrick grumbles. 

“You were always going to have to behave,” Liam says. “You’re the designated driver.” 

“Not anymore,” he says. “It appears Violet is driving us home.” 

I check my phone for the instructions Violet sent me on where to take Liam upon arrival. 

“They’re this way,” I say, motioning them to follow me. They dutifully remain with me as I crutch slowly towards the designated space. Violet sees us first. She’s breathtaking in an almost-too-tight navy skirt, an off white sweater, tights, and boots, that hair of hers in long, loose waves spilling down her back and over her shoulder. I decide right then that I will be taking that skirt off her tonight. 

“Hi,” she greets me, lifts to her toes to give me a quick peck on the lips. 

“Hi,” I reply with a smile just for her. “You look beautiful.” 

“You look good, yourself,” she says, smoothing a hand down the shirt she picked out for me. It’s a button down, charcoal gray instead of my usual black or maybe a deep blue. I was allowed to wear my usual jeans and boots, thought about trying to force my ankle into said boots, but I decided that wasn’t worth Violet’s wrath so I’m wearing my stupid air cast and a thick black sock instead. Besides, I have an appointment tomorrow that will hopefully result in me getting a walking boot. Still not ideal, but I’ve been on crutches for less than forty-eight hours and that’s too damn long. Her eyes land on something over my shoulder. They widen. “Oh!” 

I look just as Bodhi approaches Liam who looks confused. I smile, let one of my crutches rest on the wall next to me. I slip my arm around Violet’s waist and draw her to my side to watch. 

Bodhi draws Liam to the front of the room where an elaborate set up of candles and winter flowers and twinkling lights are on display. The whole room is decorated like that, with white Christmas trees dripping with white lights and shades of blue ornaments and ribbons. We can’t hear what they say to one another, but they are both crying. Violet leans into me. I kiss the top of her head, eyes never leaving my brothers. 

I hold my breath when Bodhi drops to one knee. I think we all do. Bodhi holds out a ring at the end of a trembling hand. We watch as Liam nods, then shouts “Yes!” for all of us and anyone else on the property to hear. 

Then Bodhi is leaping to his feet and they’re hugging one another hard while the rest of us cheer and whoop. They turn to us, hands linked, and hold up their joined hands. A fresh round of cheering erupts. Bodhi steps forward to celebrate with us, but Liam pulls him back. 

And then Liam is pulling out a ring, dropping to one knee. 

“What?” Violet whispers, shocked. I chuckle and nuzzle her hair. I wait until Liam has asked a shocked Bodhi to marry him, followed by a fresh round of cheering from us, before I answer her.  

“I told Liam he should keep the ring on him, since Bodhi is nosey and is always trying to find his Christmas gifts,” I confess. “I had a hunch the rest would work out.” 

That earns me a quick kiss, before we dissolve into celebrating Bodhi and Liam. The food comes out and we sit down at a long table that’s set with too many plates and utensils, but Bodhi and I and probably Violet, too, given her upbringing among D.C.’s elite, know what each of them are for, thanks to my grandmother who has only just stopped crying. 

“She’ll be inconsolable when it’s you and Violet,” Bodhi whispers to me as I hug him again before taking my seat to his left where he sits at the head of the table. “She likes Liam, but she loves Violet.” 

I chuckle and agree before I pull out Violet’s chair for her and settle in, her next to me, Liam across from me, Grandma across from Violet, Grandpa holding court at the opposite head of the table, enjoying the attention he’s getting from Sloane and Rhiannon.  

It takes Grandma one passed plate of appetizers to start in on me about my ankle. I’m still navigating around on one crutch, and she thinks I need both of them. She wants to know if I’m icing it, propping it up, wearing my brace like I’m supposed to. Violet assures her I am and I’m patient as I answer her questions about my appointment tomorrow. Then she wants to know where Brennan and Naolin are – Naolin has charmed her entirely – and Violet tells her they both are working shifts at their respective hospitals but send their love, and an impressive flower arrangement. 

“Wait a minute.” Garrick speaks up loud enough for the whole table to quiet. He looks around at each of us. “Am I the only one who didn’t know this was happening today?” 

“Well, I didn’t,” Liam says. Garrick waves him off. 

“You don’t count. You weren’t supposed to know.” 

“You have a big mouth,” Violet states. “You would have blown the surprise.” 

“I would not…” 

A good-natured argument breaks out on whether or not Garrick could have kept a secret, then it comes out that I told Bodhi about Liam’s proposal and that I hinted to Liam that he wanted to keep the ring on hand. It’s a good afternoon, one full of laughter and love so palpable it’s practically another person in the room. 

It’s just Violet and I on the way home. I’m a lot more at ease with her driving. She’s a better driver than Garrick, for one, or at least more likely to follow the traffic laws. She’s gotten comfortable driving my Bronco, too, and fuck if she doesn’t look good in the driver’s seat. We talk about the day, both of us tired in that content kind of way that happens after you’ve had a good day. It’s a far cry from this time last year, when she was spending most of each day alone in my condo and I threw myself into work. Anyone who saw us today would have never guessed the turmoil we were in, the injuries Bodhi and Violet were recovering from a year ago. We fall quiet as we near the city, content to just be together. I have her hand in mine, our fingers locked. As the city skyline grows closer, I decide to bring up something. 

“Do you want that?” I ask her. “Marriage, I mean? Not right now. In a couple years or so. After law school.” 

“I do,” she says simply, sparing a quick glance my way as she presses the brake to slow for traffic. “What about you?” 

“I do,” I nod. “It’s pretty easy for me to know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, in whatever way that looks like.” 

“I haven’t forgotten our conversation in the hotel back in New Jersey,” she says, reminding me of that evening after she was released, but Bodhi was still in the hospital, and we didn’t want to be too far away. I brought up marriage, and we ended up talking about a someday where we would have a family, and I shared my desire to adopt. “I still want all of it. With you.” 

I kiss the back of her hand. 

“There’s no rush,” I tell her. “It’s just good to know we’re on the same page.” 

“Same page,” she agrees, squeezes my hand, smiles at me. 

“You staying with me tonight?” I ask. 

“Duh,” she says with a little roll of her eyes. I chuckle and sit back in my seat, content to let her drive us home.

The scent of coffee and a soft hand rubbing circles on my back draws me out of a deep sleep. 

“Merry Christmas,” Violet says as I stir. 

“Mmm,” I groan as I roll onto my back and stretch my arms over my heads. “Merry Christmas.” I shove up to my elbows. “Is that coffee?” 

“Coffee,” Violet confirms. She waits for me to push myself up to seated and rest against the headboard before she passes me a mug with a splash of creamer, a habit I picked up during the early days of the month I spent at a retreat in Kentucky earlier this year. I’d been ready to give up, go back to New York and try another way to heal, but I’d spotted the creamer at breakfast, and it reminded me of why I was there. It also made me miss Violet that much more. And so, I poured some into my coffee to feel closer to her and I’ve been drinking it ever since. “How is your ankle?” 

I take a moment to attempt to flex and point my foot, note the range of motion is negligibly better than it was yesterday. I try rolling it both directions, but that’s a hard no. 

“Slightly improved, less painful,” I report. 

“Good,” she nods, then leans in for a good morning kiss. “Shall we open presents before your grandmother makes us come downstairs?” 

“Let’s do it,” I nod. Violet is already scrambling out of bed to retrieve said presents. I chuckle as I watch her. We decided to do our own gift exchange this morning, just the two of us, before we join everyone else. Cozy in bed with just the Christmas tree Grandma put in my room at Riorson House to give off light, I think it was one of our better ideas. 

“You first,” Violet determines as she places a large box on the bed in front of me.  She’s practically vibrating with excitement. “If I overstepped, please tell me,” she adds. “You won’t hurt my feelings.” 

I give her a curious look as I tug at the end of the bow she’s artfully wrapped around it. I tear off the paper, then open the flaps on a cardboard box. 

It’s full of framed photos in various sizes. I recognize some of them from the album my dad left in my Bronco last Christmas. There is one of my mother and I when I was only a few months old, another of me and her when I was in grade school. There is a photo of Garrick, Bodhi, and I as kids, another of Bodhi and I as babies. 

“I scanned those,” she says, cautious. “The originals are still in your photo album.” 

I say nothing. I keep removing photos. There is a one of me, Bodhi, Liam, and Sloane at Sloane’s high school graduation, another of Bodhi, Garrick, Liam, Imogen, and I at the gym. One of my favorite photos of Violet and I is framed, snuck by Imogen during the hurricane, when we all retreated to Riorson House and I got off my ass and gave into my feelings for Violet. We’re in the kitchen, standing at the island, my hand on her hip, both of us laughing at something while she scooped ice cream into bowls for what became a nightly Sundae-making party while we were there. 

“Violet,” I finally say, taking in the last photo, one of she and I from just a few weeks ago in front of the Rockefeller Christmas tree. “This…” 

“You mentioned wanting to build a gallery wall at the loft,” she says. “I thought this could get you started.” 

I pull her in to kiss the hell out of her. 

“Thank you,” I breathe. “This is - perfect.” 

“I didn’t overstep?” she clarifies. “I was worried…” 

“It’s perfect,” I say, already going back through the photos. And it is. It’s all the people I love, even my grandparents, to hang on my wall. I didn’t have many personal effects in my condo, too wrapped up in trying to avoid the past and survive my present. I want that now. I want photos of my family around me. 

“I wasn’t sure what to do about your dad,” she chances. I’ve already noticed he’s not included in any of the photos. 

“I’ll add him when I’m ready,” I tell her. She looks relieved. I lean in for another kiss and thank her again. 

“Will you tell me the stories behind the older photos?” she asks. “If you remember them?” 

“I do and I will,” I nod. “Later, though, because I don’t think we have much time before Grandma demands that we report downstairs, and I really want to give you your gift.” She brought it to the bed so I didn’t have to get up. I pick it up now and hand it to her. “For you.” 

I watch her tear off the far less attractive wrapping job. I hold in my smirk as I watch the reaction I anticipated unfold. Her brow is furrowed in confusion. 

“A puzzle?” she asks, taking in the snowy scene depicted on the box in her hands. 

“Open the box,” I instruct. She does so, finds the puzzle still bagged along with an envelope. 

She opens it, reads it. She brightens with each line. 

“We’re going away together?” she asks, excitement now replacing the caution of earlier. 

“I’m taking you here.” I pick up the puzzle box lid, turn it around so she can see it. “We leave tomorrow morning. It’s a small town in Vermont, quiet. I rented us a cabin that, according to the description and the hundreds of reviews I read, has beautiful mountain views and lots of puzzles and boardgames. This,” I wave the lid around, “is a puzzle of the town itself. I thought, after everything we’ve been through this year, then law school, my new gym, that some time away, just us, would be good.” 

“It would be really good,” Violet nods, tears in her eyes. “Some time alone, just us, would be really really good. I missed you, Xaden. When we weren’t apart, and those last couple of weeks of law school this semester, I missed you. I know it’s going to get crazy again when school starts and your new gym opens, so getting to spend time alone with you? I really really like that. I need that.” I pull her into my arms, and she snuggles in close. I owe Bodhi big time for his suggestion of time. I have a few more things planned for us while we’re there, little outings, things like that, thing I would never do, but with Violet, will participate in for her.  “We’re doing this puzzle, too.” I laugh and agree. That’s when the knock comes. 

“Xaden?” my grandmother’s voice rings out. “Violet? Are you awake?” 

“We’re up!” Violet calls even as I try to stop her. She bats my hand away from where I’m trying to cover her mouth. “We’ll be down soon!” 

Grandma turns the doorknob, tries to open the door. 

“Why is this door locked?” Grandma questions. 

“I think you know why,” I can’t help but reply. Violet elbows me. I chuckle while Grandma mutters something we can’t make out on our end of the door. 

“Come downstairs,” she says. “Make sure you’re wearing your pajamas!” I groan while Violet promises her we are on our way and wearing our pajamas. We used to do Riorson family Christmas pajamas every year. We haven’t in a long time, since that first Christmas where everyone, myself included, thought my dad was dead. Grandma happily presented everyone, even Garrick. Sloane, and Liam, with matching pajamas after dinner last night. They’re navy blue with skiing polar bears and Christmas trees. I hate them. Violet thinks it’s the greatest thing ever. I’ll be wearing matching Christmas pajamas for the rest of my life. 

Violet makes me put my shirt on, then we join the others downstairs where Grandma is informing Garrick he will be going back upstairs to put on a shirt before he’s allowed to have one of her infamous Christmas morning cinnamon rolls. Violet gives me a look that says “see?” and I shake my head.  

My dad is there, in his own pajamas. He catches my eye. 

“Merry Christmas, Xaden.”  

“Merry Christmas,” I mumble back. I’m trying, or whatever. 

“I just made a fresh pot of coffee,” he continues. 

“Thanks,” I nod. I take Violet’s mug to top off while she and my dad engage in a more pleasant or at least more genuine exchange of what he and I just did. 

It’s a good day. Grandma and Grandpa – mostly Grandma, I don’t think he has any idea what he has supposedly gifted any of us - spoil everyone and there’s a lot of exchanging of gift cards and gag gifts before an afternoon spent doing absolutely nothing unless Grandma is demanding help in the kitchen. She’s living her best life. She’s always loved big family gatherings. They used to be the only time she cooked, something that still hasn’t changed, but she has gone all out this year, the first year in a very long time when both Bodhi and I have been here on Christmas morning, my dad, Liam, Sloane, and Garrick who she has always considered part of the family. Bodhi and I have our significant others, and she says multiple times that there is no reason Imogen, Brennan, and Naolin shouldn’t be here, despite our assurances that Imogen has plans with her family, and Brennan and Naolin have gone to Naolin’s family in Connecticut this year. 

It’s closing in on dinnertime when my dad asks for a moment alone with me. I leave the others in the media room and follow him to Grandpa’s study. 

“I have something for you,” he starts, nervous. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone, in case you don’t like it, or it upsets you.” I cross my arms, wait, feel the defensive barriers I often have up around him rising, slow, waiting for me to decide if I want them all the way up.  

“Didn’t you give me a gift already?” I ask. I know he did. A rather generous gift card to an athletic store I frequent. I ended up letting Violet pick out something to give him from both of us. I think it was a shirt and a gift card, I didn’t really listen when she told me. 

“That was just something to give you,” he says. He picks up a large bag with an old-fashioned Santa on it, offers it to me. “This is what I really wanted to give you. After last year, I wasn’t sure…” 

Curiosity gets the better of me. I take it, look inside it. There isn’t any kind of tissue paper, just what looks to be canvases. My heart rate increases. I think I know what this is. I reach in, take out the first one my hand touches. 

It’s one of my mom’s paintings. 

I turn it right side up, take it in, recognize it as the backside of the Riorson House property at sunrise on a snowy morning. It’s just fields and snow-dusted trees and a brilliant splash of reds, pinks, and oranges in the sky. My throat constricts. 

There are four more, one large, the others smaller. Two are abstract, like the one of blue swirls I have hanging in my living room, the inspiration for my tattoo, for the tattoos the others got in solidarity with me. One is of the New York skyline, is almost cartoonish in nature. The last one, done on a small canvas, is of – me. I’m a teenager in it, wearing my private school uniform, my backpack hanging off one shoulder. Given my age in it, it may be the last thing she painted before she died. Tears flood my eyes. I turn my head away from my dad’s waiting gaze to pull myself together. 

“I told you I started going through her things,” Fen said. I nod, not trusting myself to talk. “I found her painting and, well, I thought you might want a few of them.” 

“I do,” I nod, back to gazing at the painting of me. “Thank you.” 

“I just… Wasn’t sure… After last year…” 

He’s referring to the photo album he left in my Bronco that documented my childhood. Violet saw it before I did, knew I was barely holding it together, and made the decision to tuck it away for a few days. It was her presenting it to me two days later and finding the letters he’d written me each year on my birthday while he was in the Witness Protection Program that made me let go of the ledge I’d been hanging onto for weeks. 

“It’s okay,” I say. “This year is not last year.” 

Then I do something that shocks the hell out of both of us. 

I hug him. 

It’s the first time I’ve done that since the night he showed up in Violet’s hospital room, when the initial surprise of seeing him propelled me to hug him, then anger took over and stayed in control for a long, long time.

“I love you,” he tells me as I let him go. “I hope you will believe that one of these days.” I choose not to reply to that. I do love him. He’s my dad, and by all accounts, he was a great dad until my mom died. I understand more now, about grief and decisions made, and how he was doing the best he could. I understand, too, the primal urge to protect people, to get revenge on those who harmed them. I’m more like my dad than I care to admit. I’m just not ready to tell him any of that. He wipes at his eyes. “There are more things of your mom’s… I’ll let you look through them, if you want, before we decide what to do with things.” 

“Okay,” I agree. He gives me a tentative smile. 

“Your mom would have been really proud of you, I hope you know that.” I only nod again. An internal tug of war rages, part of me desperate to talk about my mom with someone who knew her so well, the other part of me staunchly against discussing her with the man that, for better or worse, I still blame for her death. “She would have loved Violet.” 

“Violet is hard not to love,” I say. Fen purses his lips then gives a small, barely visible nod to himself, like he’s steeling himself to say something more. 

“If, down the road, you decide…” He pauses, resets. “Your mother’s engagement ring is yours, if you want it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say. I’ve already decided two things about marry Violet, aside from the fact that I intend to do it. One, I will not be doing a public proposal like Liam and Bodhi. It will be just her and I, alone. And two, whatever ring I get her will be hers. Grandma has offered up a ring, too, and while I appreciate the sentiment, I want Violet’s future ring to be hers. I want us to build our own life. 

Grandma calls us to dinner, saving me from further conversation. Fen claps me on the shoulder, and we both head to the dining room. Violet meets me at the doorway. 

“Everything okay?” she asks quietly. 

“Everything is fine,” I promise. I loop an arm around her, pull her in, and kiss her hair. “My dad gave me some of my mom’s paintings. I’ll show you after dinner.” 

“Your walls are going to be far less bare,” she says. 

“They are,” I agree, thinking of how much love will be in my loft once I hang everything Violet and my dad gave me today. “Have I told you I love you today?” 

“Once or twice,” she teases. “I love you, too.” 

“Xaden, Violet, you can do that later,” Grandma speaks up, interrupting our moment. “At the table, come on now, we’re waiting on you.” 

I chuckle and Violet blushes. It’s not entirely true that they’re waiting on us. Bodhi is pouring himself another drink, probably because Grandma has nagged him endlessly about wedding plans even though they’ve been engaged less than forty-eight hours, Sloane is leaning against the wall furiously texting someone – I’m a little suspicious about that, she’s been on her phone the entire time she’s been here – and Garrick is in the middle of getting his wrist slapped by Grandma as she just caught him snagging ham off the tray in front of him. 

“Her fault for putting the ham at his place setting,” Violet says just loud enough for me to hear. I laugh and pull her chair out for her. 

The last Christmas I can remember that felt this good, this joyful, was the last one we had with my mom ten years ago. As we all take hands to bow our heads and humor Grandpa’s insistence that we bless the food when other than Grandma, none of us have set foot in a church in years, I realize the woman next to me is the catalyst for all of this. She blew into my life and changed everything.

December 27th. 

I’ve had this day marked on my calendar as one to navigate carefully. 

This is the day I fell apart last year. 

This is the day I threw the photo album across the room, scared Violet, and left my condo. I got impossibly drunk, got into a fight with a mouthy stranger, then got penguin-marched home by Garrick. I woke up the next morning with a hangover from hell and a deep sense of both shame and knowing that there was no going back. I stumbled out of my bedroom, took a shower, more to buy myself some time and less because of how badly I needed one, even though I smelled like cigarette smoke and regret, and then faced Violet. 

And her suitcases. 

She was leaving, and nothing I said or did was going to change her mind. Yet I’d tried anyway. And she’d left anyway. 

This trip Violet and I are on isn’t just for her, not really. It’s for me, too. I need to be with her this week. I need to know she’s there, that I’m not in the same dark place I was last year, that I’m better, emotionally, mentally, physically, even spiritually than I was last year. 

Yet here I am, sitting in the dark by a low fire in the early morning hours, unable to sleep. 

“How long have you been out here?” 

I look over my shoulder to find Violet stepping out of the bedroom, tying her robe around her. 

“A while,” I admit. “Couldn’t sleep.” She joins me on the couch, tucks her legs under her, positions her upper body to face me, and then leans on the couch cushions. “What time is it?” 

“A little after six,” she answers. 

“I didn’t want to wake you…” 

“I woke up when you got out of bed,” she admits. “I thought you might need some time to yourself, so I stayed put and drifted back to sleep.” I take her hand and navigate her arm around me, so I can lean into her, my head on her chest, my legs stretched out across the couch. She starts to play with my hair the way I like. “Need to talk about it?” 

Not want to talk about it. Need to talk about it. 

“I’ve been worried about this day,” I tell her. “I talked to my therapist about it last week, and he reminded me that this December 27th is not last year’s December 27th, that everything is different and I’m in a better place. I know he’s right, but I still have a lot of guilt and shame around this particular stretch of time.” 

“It’s okay to have those feelings,” she reminds me. “I struggle with similar feelings.” I furrow my brow and tilt my head to look at her.  

“Why?” I ask. “Not to diminish anything you might be feelings, but you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one off the rails…” 

“I left you.” I cringe at the bluntness of the statement. “I knew you were spiraling out of control, and I left you anyway. I had a really hard time with guilt right after. I knew I needed to leave, for both of us, but I kept thinking about how when I walked out, you said ‘I need you.’ You had never said that, never let yourself need someone, and there I was, walking out. I also didn’t come back, and I promised you I always would.” 

I sit up and turn so I can face her full on. We’ve never really talked about this day. We’ve talked around it, talked about before and after, but we’ve never gotten into this day. It’s time. 

“You did come back,” I say. “It may have taken some time, but you did come back, Violet. When both of us were in a much better place and able to actually be what the other needs.” I manage a crooked half smile. “We weren’t exactly a healthy couple when we were together the first go around.” 

“I know,” she nods. “I know I did the right thing, for both of us, but I still see you standing there, absolutely broken, and it devastates me.” 

She looks close to tears. I cup her cheek, brush my thumb across it. 

“I still see you leaving more often than I’d like to admit,” I share. “Sometimes, as irrational as it is, when you leave my loft, I find myself back there, wondering if you’re going to come back. When you left last week to have your Christmas thing with Rhiannon, Sawyer, and Ridoc, I almost had a panic attack.” Her mouth forms an ‘Oh.’ “I put myself through my TIPP routine, settled down pretty quick, journaled, reminded myself that I’d see you in the morning. It was a short-lived moment of panic, but it still happened.” 

“You brought bagels over the next morning,” she remembers. “You said you had a feeling we could use the carbs after all the wine we had the night before. You really just wanted to see me.” 

“I always just want to see you, but yeah, the bagels were an excuse to get to see you sooner, remind myself you were just a few blocks away, not actually gone.” I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I know it’s not rational, and I’m working on it, but that’s something that happens when you and I go our separate ways. It’s been more prominent lately, given that it’s been a year.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did when I left,” she says. My heart breaks a little that she thinks she has anything to apologize for. “I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“You did the right thing,” I assure her, bringing her into my arms. “We’re not easy people, Violet, especially me. I had to be taken apart at my very seams to put myself back together.” I run a hand through her hair as best I can. It’s tangled from where I had my hands in it when we arrived here yesterday in a very different scenario. “I feel like one of those broken vases that get repaired by using gold to seal the cracks. I’ll always have scars, but those scars aren’t as harsh anymore.” 

She snuggles into me. I tighten my arms around her. 

“This is what I need,” I continue. “You, in my arms, trying to get closer. I want my arms to be your safe place, Violet. I want to be where you turn when things are hard or heavy or scary. I know it’s not on me to protect everyone, be everything for everyone, but for you? I want to be those things.” 

“You are those things,” she promises me. “It’s always you I want, Xaden. Had a bad day? I want you. Have good news? I want you. Need someone to cheer me up? You. Need someone to make me laugh? You.” She smiles a bit. “Get into law school? You.” 

“It’s always you for me, too, Violet. I try not to dump all my shit on you, but it’s always you.” 

“Luggage cart, remember? We load our stuff and push it together.” 

“Luggage cart,” I agree. I kiss the top of her head. “Want to go back to bed, try to get a couple more hours of sleep?” 

“No,” she shakes her head. “I think I’m up for the day. You should try, though…” 

“I’m awake, too,” I say. “I’ll make us coffee, and we’ll wait for places to open, go get some breakfast?” She agrees, and that’s how we spend our morning, curled up on the couch with coffee, me occasionally getting up to add a stick of wood to the fire. We venture out for breakfast, stay out for a while, explore the town, find a place we plan to come back to for dinner. We head back to the cabin in the early afternoon with the intention of taking a nap before we head back out for dinner. 

Except… 

“Allow me.” 

I step behind Violet as she starts to unbutton her jeans, her intention to put on a pair of sweats to lounge before we get dressed for dinner. Her hands fall away, and I unbutton them for her, unzip them, slide them down her hips. She gives a little wiggle to help the denim along. I skim my fingers over her thighs. 

“This, too.” 

I push up her shirt and she lifts her arms so I can remove it. I press an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. She tilts her head to give me better access. 

“I need you,” I whisper into her ear. A soft gasp escapes her, recognizing the importance of those words. 

“I’m here,” she says. “Take me.” 

I guide her to the bed, but before I let her sit, I slip her panties down her legs, then unclasp her bra. It falls away, and then we’re on the bed, her naked, me fully clothed, her under me. I take my time, kiss her mouth, claim it as mine. Then I’m on the move, working down her body, slow and deliberate, relishing the way her breath quickens, how she starts to squirm. 

“Fingers,” she requests, breathless, once I get between her legs. 

“You’ll have them,” I say. “I’m going to taste you, first.” I savor my first hit of her. She groans and presses herself into my mouth, asking for more. I know her body, know what she likes, can guess show she’s going to react. I drape an arm over her hips to hold her in place, then I feast. I take my time, linger, beckon her ever closer to the edge while her cries grow more desperate. When she falls apart, I pause long enough to lift up and kiss her lips so she can taste herself before I’m driving a finger into her. 

“Xaden,” she breathes, her legs wide, her body entirely relaxed for me. 

“You’re already so wet,” I say. “Is that how bad you want me?” 

“More,” she says. “I want you more.” 

“You’ll have me,” I promise. “We have to get you ready for me, though. You’re so tight.” I add a second finger, start to stretch her a little more. “There you go.” 

“Hmm,” she sighs in satisfaction. I add a third, press my thumb to her clit and start to rub small circles. “That… So… Good…” 

“Come on my fingers,” I direct her. “Then I’ll give you my cock.” I crook my fingers and thrust harder. Her breathy little moans start. I do it again, move my hand so my palm is rubbing against her as well. 

“Oh God!” she cries out. 

“Only me, love,” I say. “Now come for me.” 

Her orgasm wrecks its way through her and it’s a glorious sight. She’s all loose limbs and desperation and it’s fucking beautiful. I pull my fingers out of her and stand, eyes on hers even as she struggles to keep hers open after I’ve taken her through two orgasms. 

“I need to be in you,” I state as I unbutton my jeans. She nods her agreement. I drop my jeans and the boxer briefs under them at the same time, then pull off my shirt. I stretch out over her, hover above her on my forearms. “You doing okay?” 

“Fine,” she breathes. One of her hands finds my hair, uses the grip to pull me to her for a messy kiss. “I want to feel you.” 

“I’m going to take my time,” I tell her, kiss her again. “I need you.” 

I press into her, and it’s like coming home. It’s always like coming home, but it feels like more this time. Perhaps it's our conversation earlier, or maybe it’s that it’s been one year, or maybe it’s that I need her and she’s here, but it all feels like more. 

I take my time, my thrusts purposeful, my heart entirely in her hands. She responds, meets each thrust with her hips, keeps her hands on me, her legs wrapped around me. We whisper I love yous, each kiss is a promise to ourselves and each other. We’re here. In this. Together. She unravels first, crying out my name, tightening around me. I follow, release deep inside her. I kiss her again, whisper I love you in her ear. She whispers it back, then we’re wrapped around one another and drifting off into the nap we came back to take.  

We go to dinner later than intended, stay out later than intended. Then we’re home, tired, ready for bed. She changes into pajamas, I change into sleep pants, and then we’re climbing into bed, don’t even bother to turn the lights on. She settles on my chest, and I wrap my arms around her. 

“Sleep, Xaden,” she says. “I’ll still be here in the morning.” 

I find her lips in the dark to kiss her. 

“So will I,” I promise. “Always.”

Four days later, it’s New Year’s Eve. Violet and Rhiannon are hosting an impromptu party at their place now that Bodhi’s New Year’s Eve proposal is null and void. It’s packed with not just our group of friends, but people from Violet’s class, people Rhiannon knows from the bar, friends of her girlfriend Tara’s, and Ridoc’s current crush are all in attendance. I stay away from the alcohol, but help myself to the spread of food, then make damn sure I have Violet in my arms at midnight to kiss her into the new year. 

We fall into bed exhausted sometime after one o’clock, the aftermath of the party waiting for us to clean it up in the morning. Violet falls asleep right away, but I take a few minutes of the early morning hours of a new year to reflect. 

I don’t remember last New Year’s Eve. I was deep in the throes of depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, hopeless and devastated. This year has, hands down, been the hardest year of my life, and I’ve had some hard years. I could look back on it in resentment, but I don’t. I can’t. I’ve had to work hard, had to fight for every inch of healing, every good thing I have in my life right now. 

It’s been entirely worth it. 

The tears, the hours logged in therapy, the countless pages of journaling. The hard conversations, the scary steps forward, from calling my therapist to make an appointment to booking my ticket to Kentucky to facing Violet again, asking for forgiveness, asking for another chance to do this right. 

It has all been worth it. 

As I start to drift off, I think of what’s ahead. My new gym officially opens on the second. If Bodhi’s projections pan out, we will be looking at options for a third location in the third quarter. Violet and I have a proper vacation planned during her spring break. I’m finally getting her on that tropical island. Bodhi and Liam are talking about a summer wedding. I know it won’t all be good things, but I feel confident that things are going to be okay, even if we go through some hard things.

What I don’t know yet is that Violet will be moving into my loft in a few months, when Rhiannon and Tara decide to move in together, or that it will be me down on one knee at Christmas, that Violet will say yes, neither of us willing to wait any longer. I don’t know that Garrick, Bodhi, Liam, and I will take an impromptu guys camping trip in the early fall, or that the youth program I’m launching at the start of the second quarter will blow up and become something bigger than I ever expected. I don’t know that Violet and I will get into an argument that lasts five days when I get jealous over a guy in her law school class, or that my grandparents, my dad, Bodhi, and I will lock ourselves away at Riorson House one weekend before Bodhi and Liam’s wedding and have it out over every failure and hurt feeling we’ve had over the last several years. 

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I can get through just about anything. 

And that I don’t have to do it alone. 

I never had to.